


let the shadows pour into the sky and the moon smile behind the sun

by beetlejuice



Category: Naruto
Genre: Feelings, Fluff, Gen, I'm so sorry, M/M, One-Shots, SO MUCH FLUFF, and guilt, but likes him anyway, don't worry obito will take care of you, iruka thinks kakashi's an idiot, its full of angst, its gets angsty too, kakashi and iruka friendship, obito's still a crybaby, oh kakashi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-17 12:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1387828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetlejuice/pseuds/beetlejuice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlets about life. Kakashi centric. Pairings are mostly implied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.
> 
> This is an AU. Obito is a loyal Leaf shinobi and their in ANBU together. Rin and Minato are still dead.

_friends are there to annoy you when you least want them  
and to comfort you when you say you don’t need them_

 

They were a terrifying pair and their infamy was known throughout the shinobi world. The orders for whoever had the misfortune of running into them were told to run, to _never_ engage for doing so was paramount to suicide. Taijutsu, ninjutsu and genjutsu were batted away like annoying flies, even from the shinobi worlds most elite and their loyalty stood without question towards Konoha of the Hidden Leaf. Instructor’s at the academy told tales of their battles with their enemies, how they had stood undefeated and with nary a scratch on them when they defeated twenty jounin-level mist-nin.

 

For the few who knew them outside of their fame had only a few choice words for them and none of them were particularly flattering. Among their small circle of friends their attributes could be listed as such: obnoxious, childish, late (always, always late) and immensely protective of one another. They were always together, in fact, Asuma couldn’t remember a time when one of them was ever alone (and if they were it wasn’t for long). They almost seemed to cling to each other with a fierceness that unsettled most people who didn’t know what it was like to have your whole world crumble away beneath your feet.

 

The Third Hokage knew what they had lost, he held himself responsible for the death of their beloved sensei and so he refused to allow them to be separated, not that he would’ve succeeded at any rate. Those two would’ve defied every shinobi law and even Konoha herself if it meant saving the other. They never let their comrades die, even for the sake of a mission, but unlike the White Fang, the scorn of others meant nothing to them. They had each other after all and Naruto, the last piece of their sensei and his beloved, fiery wife.

 

The council feared them, but needed them and so they were allowed to do as they pleased, much to Danzo’s mounting anger.

 

 

Obito yawned cursing the morning as it had come much to soon for his liking, but since they had nothing in the house that could properly be labeled as food, he found himself wandering the markets in the search of something edible. Kakashi, the lazy bastard was still asleep, having pulled the covers up over his head and mumbling something about steaks and Pakkun before dropping off again. Obito huffed, trying to be angry, but failing miserably as he cursed Kakashi and his perpetual laziness, which he blamed on _him_. The bastard.

 

“Hey, where’s your porn-reading shadow?” That happily, vicious greeting could only be one Mitarashi Anko.

 

Obito groaned internally. “Good morning to you to,” he mumbled, grabbing three eggplants for Kakashi and some fresh salmon. Now to just grab some rice and he’d be home free.

 

“So,” Anko slithered over to him, blocking his path to his precious rice. Damn her. “All the chunin and jounin are throwing a Christmas party. You and Kakashi had better come this time,” the teasing invitation sounded more like a threat coming from her.

 

Obito only blinked at her, his sole eye giving her a wholly unimpressed look. He and Kakashi always did their utmost to avoid said party, not because of any dislike of anybody, but because of all the damn bets. Especially to see what was under Kakashi’s mask or to see how far down his scars really went. Kakashi had his reasons for hiding his face and _no_ he was not disfigured, not by any stretch of the imagination. And his own scarring was horrific and was not something Obito was much inclined to discuss or show to anyone regardless of how many cups saké they put in front of him.

 

Their fellow shinobi just didn’t seem to understand that, which was odd because they were _shinobi_. Looking underneath the underneath, right?

 

In regards to her question (threat), he merely shrugged. “It depends on whether we have a mission or not,” he replied easily, knowing they would. They always did.

 

Anko only grinned at him and Obito felt a stone drop into his stomach. Damn it, she wouldn’t.

 

“You don’t,” she sounded utterly pleased with herself, “I already arranged it. So you and Kakashi had better be there, got it?”

 

Apparently she would. Fuck everything. “Sure,” he said faintly. He already knew that he wasn’t getting Kakashi out of their apartment for all the _Icha-Icha_ in the world. They were screwed.

 

 

The moment Obito stepped into their apartment he saw Kakashi sniff the air curiously and fervently prayed that he could only smell the food. He knew he was deluding himself, Kakashi’s nose was better than the Inuzaka clan’s sense of smell; the man could track the scent of missing-nin in the pouring rain. Obito held out no hope for himself.

 

“What did Anko want?” Kakashi asked in that bored, blunt way of his.

 

Obito sighed, setting the groceries on the counter and started preparing breakfast. “She wants us to attend the annual Christmas party and has already spoken to the Hokage to get us relieved from our usual missions.”

 

Kakashi huffed, flopping back down onto their abused sofa, his _Icha-Icha_ held loftily in one hand. “I’d like to see her try and make us,” there was a terrifying surety in Kakashi’s voice that any attempt on her part would be futile.

 

Obito nodded, coming over to pet Kakashi’s unruly hair the way one would a dog, the famed copycat-nin rumbled happily under his ministrations. “Just don’t kill her, or maim, or otherwise wound her beyond repair,” he reminded the ANBU Hound blandly.

 

Kakashi snorted, “I have better self-control than that. Now breakfast, I’m hungry!”

 

Obito grinned at the childish demand, remembering a time when Kakashi had been more of an adult at six, with hard eyes and bloodied hands. It was nice seeing him playing the part of a demanding child every once in awhile. Obito’s smile almost wobbled when he thought, that if sensei were still alive, the man would’ve happily spoiled Kakashi with every ounce of affection the man was capable of.

 

If Kakashi had noticed his moist eye (he most certainly did) he didn’t comment, only taking the offered bowl with a smile, his visible eye curving up with his soft lips.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

_peace comes in the quiet, in the completely unexpected normalcy  
of the days softly swinging forward_

 

Kakashi’s favorite haunt was the academy. Dressed in just his uniform blacks he happily stretched himself across the branch of the nearest tree and dozed on and off, listening to Iruka-sensei attempting teach wannabe ninjas (with surprising success, at least compared to the other instructors). Kakashi liked Iruka-sensei, the chunin had a sure sense of self and knew his role and place in their village; he didn’t act more powerful than he was, but he most certainly wasn’t a pushover.

 

Iruka had been the first person (besides Obito) to simply take his eccentricities in stride. When the teacher had first found him lounging in a tree right outside his classroom in the dead of winter, the man had only raised an annoyed eyebrow at him before turning back to his class. He left his window open and the next day there was a cup of hot tea waiting for him on the windowsill. They didn’t speak to each other or even nod in the other’s general direction, but Iruka still acknowledged him in his silent, unobtrusive way that seemed to settle the rising darkness that festered like an infection deep in his soul after a particularly gruesome mission.

 

 

It was snowing today and his tea was still waiting for him, steam billowing up from the colorful mug. Kakashi let his eye curve up into a genuine smile and settled on his tree branch to watch Iruka-sensei tame and train a class of unruly children with sharp objects.

 

Taking a sip of his tea Kakashi wondered if Obito would be proud of him for making a friend all on his own.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me

_how can the sun rise when the shadows are still so thick at my feet?_

 

Naruto was a ray of sunshine, all bright smiles and the color of the sky in his eyes. Minato-sensei and Kushina-san’s son through and through and the container of the greatest calamity that had hit their village, the nine-tails; a part of Kakashi wanted to hate the village for only seeing the nine lashing tails and chakra as red as hate and burning like fire when they looked at the bouncing ball of sunshine and mischief.

 

Obito had wanted to adopt him, he had argued, pleaded and even threatened the Third with Kakashi behind him, a silent pillar of support. The Third, however, held firm that Naruto would be left orphaned, that the village should remain blissfully ignorant that the baby they so easily had given to hate, was in fact the son of the Fourth Hokage. Kakashi and Obito have never quite forgiven the old man and the Third knows this and accepts it with battered and weary heart, wishing things had been different.

 

Still, it doesn’t stop them from peeking in on Naruto from time to time in between their missions. They slip in through the shadows, all bone-white armor and porcelain masks. They talk to the child, bring him gifts and read to him when sleep doesn’t come. It is only a fraction, the mere skeleton of affection that they can offer to the child, but it’s the best they can do at the moment.

 

The council watches them warily and the child even more so. The three of them have learned to take what they can get.

 

If only things had been different.

 


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.
> 
> This is kind of what I felt like yesterday.   
> I'm so sorry Kakashi.

 

_I_ (we) _care too much and it feels as though I will bleed to death from the pain of it_

 

He was under the porch again.

 

Obito cursed, feeling his remaining eye burn hot with tears he was desperately trying not to shed. This always happened, every time the Hokage sent Kakashi on one of those damn black-op missions where no decision was ever the right one; where the entire mission was just comprised of lesser evils and Obito shuddered to think what kind of atrocities Kakashi had been forced to commit this time.

 

Getting down on his hands and knees he peered worriedly under the darkened porch. He deliberately shifted his feet, allowing the noise of his presence to penetrate the hollowed darkness beneath their house. “Kakashi,” he ventured tentatively. “Come on, I know your in there.”

 

A deep, rattling growl was the only reply he received. Obito cursed, rubbing a scarred hand through his short, choppy hair. “Shit,” he muttered. Kakashi had summoned Bull. It was bad then, it was really bad. The first time this had happened Obito had been panicked, wondering what the hell had happened and furious in equal measure, though his anger was strictly reserved for the Hokage and the ANBU branch of their village. At least then he had had Pakkun to help calm Kakashi down enough to see to his wounds and get some food in his stomach.

 

Obito had slept outside that night, refusing to leave Kakashi alone under their porch with just some dusty old blankets he had found in their linen closet. But Bull couldn’t be reasoned with like Pakkun; the giant bulldog’s loyalty was solely for Kakashi and anyone who got near the copy-nin without said man’s consent were going to get their heads removed, violently. Obito liked his head where it was, thank you.

 

“Shit,” his voice trembled and his throat hurt from swallowing back the tears threatening to rise up. “Kakashi,” he tried again. “Kakashi you got to come out, okay? Can you do that for me? Can you be a good boy and come out? I just have to check your wounds okay; I also have some food for you, I got your favorite. Kakashi, come on boy.” He felt sick as he spun the familiar words on his tongue.

 

Words you would whisper to a dog who was too scared to inch closer for fear of being struck again. Obito couldn’t remember the first time the words had slipped out, all he knew was that they worked and that they brought Kakashi out of his self-imposed darkness and into his arms where he could care for him.

 

Slowly, so slowly Kakashi crept out of the den under the porch; his hair, usually shining like liquid silver was stained black with blood. The sharingan Obito had gifted him was spinning sluggishly, the eye red and swollen having obviously been overused.

 

He gritted his teeth together, “You idiot.” He muttered brokenly, slowly bringing up his fingers to gently close the inflamed eye, preserving what was left of Kakashi’s dwindling chakra.

 

“Obito,” the voice that whispered his name like a prayer did not sound like Kakashi, and he felt his heart break again for hearing it.

 

“I’m here,” he said softly, carefully stripping him of his ANBU uniform and systematically cleaning and wrapping the wounds he came across, all the while mumbling nonsense in a soft, soothing voice. He left the mask on. Bull stood to the side, watching the scene that was becoming all too common these days with sad, solemn eyes.

 

Tears fell unbidden from a single eye, carving a path down a scarred cheek. His sobs rattled in his chest, heaving like a great storm. “You’ll be ok,” he lied, pulling Kakashi into his arms, his head nestled beneath his chin. “You’re going to be ok, I promise.” The lie tasted like poison on his tongue, and for a moment Obito hated himself most of all.

 

“…Be ok…” Kakashi repeated tiredly, “Obito…be ok.”

 

Obito could only hold him tighter as he cried for the both of them.


End file.
